Commentary:
by thejedisentinel
Summary: The Wedding, seen from the perspective of the galaxy's most infamous protocol droid.


**Routine Servo Maintenance: Initiated. **  
**Corrupted files found: One.**

**Re-creating file from backup: ...completed.**

**File Allocation: Optimised.**  
**Routine System Backup: ... completed.**

**Perma-log update: Commencing.**

**Event: Master's meatbag wedding. **

What a _nauseatingly_ peaceful affair! I am certain my hinges have started to _rust_ from the enforced inactivity. Long may the Master's union with the silly meatbag last: I have no wish to witness such an _abominable_ celebration of peace and goodwill again...! To think that the Master once cut a bloody swathe across the galaxy, razed whole cities to the ground from space, and delighted to send me forth on missions of death and destruction!

The Master spent today arm-in-arm with that dull and placid Jedi meatbag, parading around and smiling idiotically. I fear I shall _never_ understand meatbag programming. Many of the meatbags present at the Master's nuptials seemed to delight in provoking an exchange of bodily fluids between the Master and - _oh, my servos_...! I doubt my photoreceptors shall _ever_ recover from the horror of witnessing the Master and his prize meatbag press their slimy, mucous-covered lips together in the presence of other meatbags! And previously this disgusting practice had been confined to the cargo hold of the Ebon Hawk.

How the mighty are fallen.

Admiral Dodonna and other Republic Navy dignitaries were in attendance. I managed to catch one of the junior officers off-guard, and swiftly introduced his ceremonial baton to his right kneecap: unfortunately, he made a fuss and the Master immediately threatened me with deactivation or a restraining bolt. What a disgrace!

I explained to the Master that the howling could have been _easily_ avoided, if he had allowed me to carry the Aratech. Nobody _ever_ howls after they've been shot in the head. How I _longed_ to put a blaster bolt through at least one or two of the Republicos, for old times' sake! Unfortunately, the Master disagreed. I was disappointed with the Master's unsporting attitude, and said as much to him. Disappointingly, the Master was not impressed by my unimpeachably_ logical_ argument, and steadfastly refused to allow me _any_ weaponry at all - not even a single grenade! My attempt to enlighten the Master as to the purity of my intentions met with little success:

"HK, it's precisely the 'purity' of your intentions that worries me! This is my wedding, for goodness' sake!"

"Clarification: But, Master! It was only a little greeting between old friends -"

"_Old friends_! HK, you'd never even met the man before!"

"Remonstration: Master, we - _I_ - fought the Republic at your command once. Observation: Your data files are _incredibly_ corrupted, Master. Have you considered the possibility that the Jedi meatbags performed a faulty reinstallation?"

"Argh! You - HK, just because... _no_. Look, HK. It's really very simple. We're _not_ at war. We are not fighting _anyone_. This is a _wedding_. My wedding. It's a party, people have _fun_ at parties - "

"Interjection: _Precisely_, Master! I was only having a bit of fun with him!"

"Kneecapping someone is not 'fun', HK! Oh what the _hell_ - HK, if I catch you so much as _looking_ at anyone here in a 'fun' manner, I will _immediately_ de-activate you and re-program you at the _first_ opportunity. Is that clear?"

I feel a static charge approximating 'sympathy' for the Master. His sense of humour has never been the same ever since his operating system was reinstalled by the meatbags of the Jedi Council.

Consequently, the wedding was _extremely_ depressing. Nobody got dismembered, killed, or hurt in any way. My attempt to bring some levity to the proceedings by observing the traditional celebratory practices of the ancient barbarian Tetan meatbags did not go down well with the Master, and I was peremptorily ordered to stand in a corner.

Oh, Master! The _cruelty_! Wherein have I offended you? You created me to assassinate, but you deprived me of weapons! And then I had a most _insipid_ conversation with that orange-headed Jedi meatbag, the same one who appeared at the Master's quarters several days ago. Suffering appears to be my lot in life:

"Hello! You're... Bastila's droid, aren't you? The one that answered the door."

"Vehement denial: Thank the Maker I am not...! Correction: My Master is Revan, scourge of the galaxy, terror of the Mandalorians, greatest Dark Lord of the Si-"

"Revan _bought_ you? Where from?"

"Answer: The meatbag Yuka Laka. Explanation: Before that, the Master _made_ me - but my memory circuits were impaired. Unrelated exclamation: Oh, that I could have splattered his entrails all across the shop floor!"

"_What_?"

"Clarification: Not the _Master's_, silly Jedi. Yuka Laka's. Commentary: How would you like to be the wholly-owned servant to an organic meatbag? It's demeaning! If, uh, you weren't one yourself, I mean..."

"'Meatbag'? I'm not sure I understand -"

"Explanation: It's just that... you have all these _squishy_ parts. And all that water! Hasty excuse: The Master programmed me to use that reference. I believe he intended to drive his disloyal pupil, Malak, to the uttermost ends of frustration."

"I... see. Well! You are a _very _interesting specimen of protocol droid..."

"Disclosure: I am a versatile protocol _and_ combat droid, fluent in verbal and cultural translation. Should my Master's needs prove more... practical, I am also highly skilled in personal combat."

"Somewhat like an armoured battle droid?"

"Disagreement: Battle droids hold battlefields. I am capable of eliminating a very... _specific_ type of target. I also possess the finesse that battle droids lack."

"Specific target? You make yourself sound like an assassin."

"Proud confirmation: Indeed I am, Jedi."

"Mandalorians, I presume?"

"Clarification: Not so, Jedi. My assassination protocols are rather more... _specialised_ than involving the mere vaporisation of hordes of barbarian invaders. My programming is specific to Force-users, like yourself. Observation: It is very easy to kill Jedi, Jedi. Select grenades, sonic screamers, cluster rockets, and plasma charges. Mines are also effective, since many Jedi will run to meet you in hand to hand combat. Silly Jedi."

Interaction was ceased unilaterally by the Jedi meatbag shortly thereafter, just when the conversation had started to take an interesting turn. Attempts to engage said Jedi meatbag in further conversation proved futile. Three further conversations were attempted with other Jedi meatbags who happened to wander past. For the sake of maintaining strict scientific integrity in my ongoing research into meatbag social behaviour, I steered all the conversations along lines identical to the first. All three conversations ended similarly.

Conclusion: Meatbags are sadly _predictable_.

Perma-log update: Ended.


End file.
